


The Beginning Is The End

by NormalIsntInMyVocabulary



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: OCs - Freeform, and concepts rumored to be left behind, and old story, combining new story, long story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 06:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12906162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NormalIsntInMyVocabulary/pseuds/NormalIsntInMyVocabulary
Summary: When a kingdom falls centuries ago, Noctis and his group are intrigued to find someone claiming to know how to get there and find the treasures locked away deep within its walls. As their journey with this new man, Rouel, begins, they have a lot to learn about who you should trust; a wrong judgement can mean the difference between life and death.





	The Beginning Is The End

     The whole kingdom is dead, corpses line the streets and pile up on the sidewalks. The final barrier between the light and dark has fallen, but it fell a long time ago. But this doesn't matter now, not with the King remaining in this ghost town. King Basilius sits on his throne, yet he doesn't wish to. He wishes to get up and move--even to flee the place he once called home. But he can't; his shriveled legs won't let him. So the rusted wheels of what he calls a throne squeak as he forces his way down the moss and stained roads.  
     No matter how much rain there is in this endless night of a city, the streetlights still show the thick film of bloodstains and corpses pave the road. This wasn't how this was supposed to end; hell, it wasn't even how it was supposed to go  
     The pale, ghost-like figure of a once happy man now sits alone, apart from the whimpering that’s been coming from the hollow fountain in the middle of the forgotten town. As he followed the noises he once knew as happy barking, it turned gurgled as if liquid was filling the creature’s lungs. Once he got close enough to the crumbled fountain, he saw the hulking mass cast along the rubble.  
     Basilius went over to the creature, it whimpering as the sharp squeak of his throne made a snapping noise. “Why do you suffer?” Basilius asked, the creature merely giving a hollowed howl as a response. “Leave this place, it has nothing left to give you. You will be miserable if you stay here.” The creature of four eyes looked at Basilius, doubt cast upon its canine features that seemed to resemble a haunting glimpse of what once was instead of what is.    
     “But you are sad as well,” the creature stated in a gurgled tone, black sludge spilling out from the gash in its throat. “This place has nothing left for you, Highness.”  
     Not questioning the words, Basilius merely nodded. “But I cannot move on. I am stuck here, both to rule and to find my escape.”  
     “There is no escape,” the creature stated, all pain seeming to leave the beast as it sat up, almost as if the whimpering was a ruse. “The river is too strong for my King to leave. He will rule his kingdom of ghosts, as said by the healer.”  
     “The healer only healed the desires of the wicked,” Basilius was quick to add. “Now leave this world, you need rest.”  
     “But you will be alone,” the beast retorted in a pitied tone.  
     “That is nothing new to me. Soon I shall follow you as well.”  
     The creature was struck with silence for a few moments. “But,” it finally opposed, “I cannot let my King come to such a fate.”  
     “You have no say in the matter, my dearest pet.” Basilius replied, a large eye emerging from the gash in its throat, looking at the pale and starved King.  
     “You are a shell of your former self King. I cannot let you come to the weight you carry.” The beast stated. “You do not need to fight alone.”  
     “I do not fight,” Basilius stated with a grim smile, “I have already lost.”  
     With that, the beast went silent, the King soon losing interest in the lack of conversation. He soon went back to the place he had held in high respects. "Ah, the true king." Basilius stated upon to the skeleton on the rusted and mold-covered throne, humidity hanging heavy in the already thick and horrid air. "It has been a long time since we spoke." There was nothing but silence in the air. "Brother, it is rude to be silent."  
     The headless skeleton, having nothing except some shreds of tendons and muscle stuck to his bones by crusted blood, the vultures surrounding him unable to get it off, moved to sit up properly. The ribcage, pried open like a pair of Angel's wings, housed the head of the King, his jaw opening as a cold voice came through. "My brother, we do not speak often."  
     "It is a treat when we get the chance."  
     "I do not care to converse with murders," the King stated.  
     "Caelius, that is no way to talk to your brother," Basilius retorted.  
     There was silence for only a minute. "But it is the way to speak to the man who murdered me. You made one point clear to me, my brother; you are a danger."  
     "I am no danger, I am salvation." He stated. "Kings are not Gods, yet they are worshiped as such."  
     "You share Ifrit's attitude brother, may he have mercy upon you." Caelius looked at his brother, his hollow sockets seeming to contort is a bitter state.   
     "Return to the land of the dead brother, that's the one thing you will always have that I cannot reach. Just know, for that fact alone-I shall always envy you." With Baisilius's words, the fallen King Caelius fell silent, leaving his brother in silence once more.


End file.
